The Cole St Clair Story
by librarylemming
Summary: This is the back story  or what I perceive is the back story  of Cole St Clair - a character introduced in the sequel of Shiver titled Linger. He is a very messed up person, and this is my idea as to why he is the way he is.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N - This is my first fan fiction. Ever. And I know it is a little depressing and angsty, but that's is how I feel that Cole is portrayed. All of the characters mentioned were created by Maggie Stiefvater, so I don't own this in any way. I tried to use as much of Cole's known history as possible, but the final idea was my own. Anyway, I hope you enjoy (or not, I don't mind) and please feel free to leave reviews. Honest reviews. Please. Much appreciated :)**

The Cole St Clair Story

All I could see was the lights. They swirled, faded and throbbed. Flashed multiple colours, casting eerie glows on all those who stood near. The crowd pulsated together, one massive entity, filling my vision with their unhindered faces of desire. So clearly I could see that they wanted more, to _feel_ more, to _be _more.

All I wanted to see was nothing.

All I could hear was the noise, the heavy bass line, undecipherable lyrics, moans of happiness, ecstasy as people swayed to the rhythm. It filled my eardrums, so loud that I could feel my pulse in my ear. Which was not nearly fast enough for what the random girl beside me wanted. She was under the music's spell, hypnotising her with its patterns, but it only made my thoughts sharper, clearer, and made everything around me indistinct. I could feel her inching ever closer, her breath hot on my face, but I couldn't focus on her. I just couldn't. My thoughts demanded my attention.

And never had I wanted to lose myself to nothingness more.

I hated this.

I couldn't stand it.

I pushed myself out of the chair, making the girl (what was her name again?) fall away with an astonished and annoyed look on her face. She tried to call out, I could see her mouth forming the shape of my name, tried to pull me back, but I walked away and didn't look back.  
Couldn't look back.

I pushed my way through the crowd, receiving more than a few disgruntled words cast my way, but I flipped them the bird and continued on my way. A heavy cloud of dark thoughts was looming over me, and I had to escape before I lost control. Before they took over.

I quickly shoved my hands deep into my jean pockets, and continued shouldering my way to the exit. I clenched my fists tight, nails digging into my skin, giving me a temporary relief from my mind as I focused on the pain. Like an anaesthetic, it numbed those urging thoughts, pushing them into the recess of my mind for a short time. But that wasn't enough. I needed to find a more complete solution.

Finally, I reached the exit, pushing on the bar until I was greeted outside my the cold, sharp air. I breathed in deeply, the cold stinging my noise comfortingly.

At the end of the street, huddled up against a wall, I saw a group of guys laughing and spilling their drinks all over the pavement, their hands slackening as the alcohol and who knows what else took their effect.

That was what I wanted. To lose myself. To forget who I was. To forget who I am. To forget.

Walking past them, my envy of their state grew. And I realised, the pain in my hands was gone.

I started shaking, walking quicker to my car, hoping to get to my stash before the thoughts came back. I could see my car's familiar battered shape in the distance, and in that split second between realising where it was and where I was, I knew that I couldn't get there fast enough.

I broke into a sprint, my feet hitting the pavement loud and hard.

I grabbed my keys out of my pocket, and jammed them into the car as quickly as I could, but it wouldn't fit. I cursed loudly, and frequently, as I struggled to open the door.

"Fuck this."

I put my keys back in my pocket, drew my fist back and threw a hard punch through the driver's side window. With a satisfying crack in my hand, and the sound of breaking glass, I reached in and unlocked the door. I opened the door, ignoring the slices in my arm as some of the remaining glass tore at my skin. Brushing most of the glass off of my seat, I fell into my car, and shut the door with a loud slam.

I leaned over and opened the glove box, drawing out my trusty bottle of whisky, taking 5 big gulps before catching my reflection in the rear view mirror.

My once bright green eyes looked dull and lifeless. By cheekbones stood out prominently, giving my face a hollowed out look that was both haunting and badass. My hair was a mess - just the way the girls liked it.

"Cole, what the fuck have you done to yourself?"

I sighed, resting my head against the headrest (no shit). But the alcohol wasn't working fast enough for me.

Not fast enough at all.

And I began to remember what I had been trying to forget all night.

_I sauntered in the door, along with my brother Steven. He sported a big grin on his face, clutching a simple piece of paper in his hand so tightly that it crumpled every time he moved. With an easy movement, he threw his bag onto the floor and walked into the kitchen to tell my parents the good news. I trudged upstairs, becoming increasingly aware of every single thing that was being said downstairs, and waited somewhat nervously for the attention to turn to me.  
_Me? Nervous? What was wrong with me?_  
__I went into my room and shut the door silently, which in itself was out of character for I normally liked to make it perfectly clear where the hell I was and that I wanted to be left alone. I dumped my bag in the corner, and laid down on the bed face down. Trying to distract myself, I remembered her face. _

_Angie.  
__My best friends sister.  
__But that didn't matter. She was beautiful and amazing. Her dark brown hair fell in waves to her shoulders, and she had stunning chocolate brown eyes that both knew and exploited the fact that I would tell her anything. She was like a truth serum - I couldn't say anything but the truth around her. __She had faint freckles across her face, for she spent all her time in the sun, like she couldn't get enough. But it wasn't this that I only loved. _

_It was her smile. Her smile that eased all my worries, that made me feel happy and elated and proud and just plain good. Which was hard to do. I had fallen for her, and I couldn't believe it. I could have any girl that I wanted, I was that good looking, but it was only her that I wanted. Only her that I probably could never get. _

_The sound of heavy footsteps drew my attention away from Angie and back to my bedroom. My bedroom whose walls seemed suddenly uncomfortable and claustrophobic, closing in on me slowly until I was drenched in sweat. __The footsteps stopped and there was a cough outside my door, and as I turned to look in that direction, I saw the doorknob slowly turning. Which meant only one person._

_Dad. _

_No one else dared enter my domain without knocking, and even then were hesitant to come further in than one metre away from the door. Which was exactly how I liked it. __But that didn't matter to him, not anymore. _

_He stepped in, and I could see his barely controlled anger behind his black eyes. He came closer, and pulled my up into a sitting position._

_"What is happening with you, son?" he said, disguising his disgust towards me in a feeble attempt at concern._

_I shrugged at him, pretending not to understand what he was talking about. Although I did. I knew exactly what he meant.  
__I was flunking school. On purpose. Because, to be perfectly honest, I couldn't give a crap anymore. I didn't want to be a mother-fucking physicist like 'Daddy'. I didn't want to be anything like him. I used to care about grades, and school, and all that crap, but once I let one thing drop, everything dropped. Like dominos. Falling, falling, with no control. _

_He shook my shoulders, and looked me directly in the eyes. I stared back, part out of defiance, and part out of knowing that if I looked away, things could get a whole lot worse._

_"Where's mum and Stevey?" I asked, somewhat hopefully, but his smirk gave it away._

_"They've gone out, to celebrate his good grades. Obviously, not as good as yours used to be, but the best we could hope for out of him," dad replied. His gaze on me hardened, his eyes turning into black pieces of coal, ready to burn._

_"Son, I have to teach you a lesson. Life is about working hard to get where you want to be. You can't just pass through not trying and hope for the best, because at the moment the best you are probably gonna do in life is to become the assistant manager of the local MacDonald's. And that is best case scenario. Do you want to live that way, son? Do you really want to?" he asked rhetorically. He didn't want an answer, and didn't need one. I could already see that he had convinced himself that he was completely correct. And I knew he wouldn't give me a chance to disprove his theory. _

_He shook his head somewhat sadly, and put his hand on my shoulder, squeezing to the point of it being uncomfortable._

_"Just remember, son, Cole, that this is all your fault. You brought it on yourself. You could have been great, brilliant, just like me. But you chose this. This is all on you."_

_I tried to retreat into the far corners of my mind, tried to cut off all ties to the present, but his first blow obliterated even that hope.  
__His second and third got my upper body.  
__And then I lost count. They came so hard, and so strong, that I couldn't even remember to try and defend myself. I had tried, a long time ago, to fight back. But that only made things worse. _

_Instead, I focused on Angie.  
__THWACK.  
__Her face.  
__CRACK.  
__Her eyes.  
__SLAP.  
__Her smile. _

_The pain grew and got to the point that it was unbearable. He hadn't left a single inch of my body alone. Everything was a target. I was a target. And he wouldn't stop._

_My mind detached from my body, eventually. Black spots appeared in my vision. Although I couldn't focus on anything, for I was being shaken and battered and bruised too quickly for anything to be in my line of sight for long enough, all that was perfectly clear was his eyes. The cold, black things that radiated loathing, anger, and even pleasure. _

_Pleasure. My dad enjoyed hurting me. I was 16 years old, and he still liked me being his punching bag. He didn't care what happened to me. It was only because I was injuring his pride, and shaming him that made him treat me this way. __And that's when I lost consciousness. The comfortable blackness, nothingness, where nothing intrudes. No thoughts, no light, no memory, just floating in the darkness. _

_After a while, I regained consciousness, and I noticed that I was on the floor, curled in on myself. There were no lights in my room, and it took a while for my eyes to adjust to the darkness. Dad had obviously closed my door, and told my mum and brother that I 'wanted to be left alone'. Typical. __I tried raising myself slowly off the floor, but it took effort, and my left arm shot such pain up my arm when I tried to lean on it that I cried out. After realising how futile it was to get up, I crawled over to my bathroom and turned on the light, prepared to take inventory. __My whole body was bruised. I took off my shirt, and instead of marvelling at my perfect body like I normally do, I looked to see how many bruises I had accumulated this time. __My entire upper body was in blossoming shades of purple, blue and black. The slightest movement caused me pain, from a thousand different directions. Suddenly, I felt the need to throw up. __I only just made it to the toilet before the contents of my stomach ended up in the bowl. _

_I also noticed streaks of dark red, which wasn't tomato sauce. Disgusted, I flushed and moved to the sink to wash out my mouth. __I drew my hand across my face, and left a streak of red across my skin. Hurriedly scrubbing that off, I moved back into my bedroom and switched off the light. In the dark, I stumbled to my bed, quickly took off my shirt and pants, and lowered myself as painlessly as possible onto it while only wearing my boxers. _

_The worst part? I knew dad was right.  
__This was all my fault.  
__This was what I deserved.  
__This was who I was now. _

Shuddering at the memory, and unconsciously brushing my hand across my once bruised chest, I started the car and got out of there. I didn't know where I was going, and I didn't care. I just drove, letting my gut tell me where to turn. I ignored the speed limits - it was midnight, and no one would give a damn.

I know they say that you can't outrun your problems.

But I sure as hell would try.


	2. Chapter 2

Driving.

It numbs the mind.

The wind flowing in through the broken window made the air crisp and made my skin crawl with goosebumps. It tousled my hair, sending flyaway bits into my eyes, but I didn't care. I just focused on the road ahead, allowing the bumps in the road to lull me into a kind of waking dream. The silence was bliss, surprisingly. Normally I drown everything out with deafening noise, but today the silence did the job a hundred times better.

Like I said - driving numbs the mind.

Eventually, the desperate urge to outrun my demons died down, sinking away with the fading moon. Without thinking, I gripped the wheel tighter, which did nothing but send shooting pains up my arm. I silently cursed myself, loosening my grip and shaking out my hand. I could feel bits of glass stuck inside, cutting miniscule slices further and further into my skin. I knew I needed to have someone look at it. It was the right thing to do - the sane thing.

But when the fuck was I ever _sane_?

Slowly but surely, the car's rhythmic patterns lost its effect on me, and I awoke completely out of my semi-conscious state. Finally taking a proper look at my surroundings, I realised where I was.

In Angie's town. Of course. I couldn't believe I had let myself come here. Couldn't believe that I didn't even know I had. She was so close, so close to where I wanted her to be - with me, in my arms, fitting perfectly like she used to.

And yet, she was as far away from me as wolves were to the moon they bray at.

I stared blank eyed out of the windscreen, refusing to allow my eyes to search for her house, for her, for places she had been to, for places she told me she wanted to be. I refused to give in. Instead, I headed to the 24 hour clinic I knew was nearby. The pain in my hand had gone from a comfortable friend, to a burning annoyance that refused to realise its iron grip on my nerves and skin. And I also could not ignore how angry it looked, and clearly the drive had made it worse. So, resigned, I pulled into the clinic parking lot, got out of my car. No, I didn't bother locking the door - for there was a broken window, and it would have been pointless. Besides, it was a shitty car. I didn't really care.

I walked into the clinic, and was assailed by the scents. Everything was so...sterile. Everything smelt almost _too_ clean - so clean in fact that the fumes of the disinfectant burned my nostrils. And it wasn't the comfortable burn of last night's crisp air - it was like someone had put oil on my nose and lit it with a match. See, everyone a screwed up person like me understands the difference between normal pain and uncomfortable pain.

The smell was too much for me, so I instead decided to breathe through my mouth instead - even if it made me look and sound a little weird. Hell - my hand looked like an absolute _mess_, so I am pretty sure no one would be paying attention to me slightly-less-than-normal voice and breathing.

I noticed a pretty little black haired woman sitting behind the front desk and sauntered over.

"Can I get someone to look at this? Right now?" I said, slapping my injured and grotesque looking hand right in front of her.

Looking entirely way too startled, like a deer caught in the headlights, she picked up the phone somewhat shakily and checked to see whether there was an available space for me to get fixed. I stared at her, noticing how often she glanced back at my hand - also noticing how she paled every time she did. Her dark brown eyes seemed too innocent and too naive to be working in such a place - I concluded that she must be new, as she was entirely unprofessional. Not that it would matter, for I would be out of here as soon as I could, and this woman would be just another blip in my overwhelming tide of fractured thoughts and tainted memories.

She nodded slowly, and pointed me down the corridor to the only open door. I followed her finger and ended up in a small room with walls covered in motivational posters and happy, smiling pictures.

I hated it.

After plonking myself in the available patients chair, I waited for someone to come in and remove the

glass in my hand. Hell, I didn't care if they just chopped the entire thing off. I just wanted to get the hell out of this place filled with a past that could now never be my future. Soon, but not soon enough for my liking, a crumbling old doctor walked in, his stomach straining his shirt buttons, and his face bright red from what appeared to be a wheezing fit.

My immediate thought was this - I hope I don't live long enough to ever become that.

We didn't exchange a word at all, miraculously on the same page. He just brought over his medical tools and started working away at my hand, tugging, pulling, prodding, stretching, adjusting, fixing, and doing whatever else it is that doctors do to people who had half a windows glass fragments stuck in their hand. Quickly growing bored, I stared out the window and saw a hill.

Or, more like, _the_ hill.

Fuck, no.

I hated this room even more.

I wanted to bolt right now, but the wheezing old geezer was not even halfway down fixing my hand.

Good job, Cole. Well done.

Sighing resignedly, I sunk lower into my chair (careful not to move my hand in fear that it would make this thing even longer) and waited for the onslaught of memories to hit.

I didn't have to wait very long.

_It was hot. Cloyingly hot. My shirt stuck to my skin and my jeans clung uncomfortable to my legs. I knew I was still good looking, but that didn't mean I couldn't feel disgusting. The heat caused my world to spin, or was it just my head? Either way, something was spinning, and it wasn't normal. I could see the waves of heat rising in front of me, distorting the shapes in the distance until it looked like a scene from Hell. I walked, walked fast, walked to the girl who might be able to make this better. _

_Walked to the girl whose smile could melt away my pains. _

_The girl who meant the world to me. _

_The streets were empty - clearly everyone was being normal and creating their own little winters inside their houses, cocooning themselves in a cold blanket from the scorching sun, the burning pavements, and the hell on earth. The concrete beneath my feet was so hot that I could feel it through my thongs. Cheap, rubber thongs that was the only thing I could wear for one of my feet was twice the size of the other - another little present from my dad. Wearing anything else hurt so bad that I couldn't stay in them for more than a minute. My jeans covered up the worst of my recent leg injuries, but I didn't want to look like a complete fuckwit, so I opted wearing a t-shirt - even if it meant some of my bruises showing. _

_I continued on my path towards her. She was a magnet, pulling me in, the pull getting stronger the closer I got. And I couldn't stop it. _

_And I didn't want to. _

_I thought about writing her a song to perform in Narkotika. Maybe for the upcoming tour, maybe for the next concert. I got excited at the thought, imagining her standing in the crowd, eyes trained on me as I poured my heart out for her on stage. I knew I was a jerk at the best of times, but she was my redeeming quality, and I wanted to prove it. I probably didn't deserve her, but I am selfish by nature. _

_Her perfect house came up on my left, and I hesitated before walking up the steps that led to her front door. But her pull was so insistent, I couldn't hesitate long. As I said, I am selfish by nature. Knocking three times, I stood back and waited for her face to fill the space in front of me. If I had guessed correctly, she was the only one home - there were no cars in the driveway, and I couldn't hear Vic's music blaring out the windows. _

_My heart sped up as I saw the door handle turning, and soon enough I was able to get my Angie fix. _

_Her beautiful brown eyes widened in surprise, and she stood stock still for a split second but then she was in my arms, holding me so tight and I realised that she was the one holding the broken pieces of Cole together. She laughed her enchanting laugh, squeezing me tighter, and I tried to hug her back just as tightly but my injuries wouldn't allow me, and I accidentally let out a moan of pain. _

_And she was gone. Jumped back from me, an arm's length away with concern filling her eyes. She grabbed my hand ever so gently, beckoning me inside, but still being careful not to cause me pain. _

_Once we were settled in her room (I was right - she was alone), I could barely stop her before a torrent of worried words came spilling out of her mouth. I let her speak. And just waited. _

_"Cole, what happened to you? Did you get in an accident? Did something happen at your last concert? Oh god, when did this happen? Did you tell your parents? Did you go to the hospital? Some of those bruises look pretty bad..." She questioned hurriedly, as if there wasn't enough time to get it all out. _

_I waited for as long as I could, but I figured that she wouldn't shut up unless I interrupted. I placed my finger on her lips, effectively silencing her, and took her face in my hands._

_"Angie, it's okay. I am fine. It's nothing I am not used to, and everything is better now that I can be here with you. Please, just leave it at that, okay?" I asked her, trying to read her emotions. Quickly, I saw a spark of understanding light in her eyes._

_"You are used to this? Does that mean...does that mean...Cole, oh my god. I didn't even realise things with your dad were that...were that...oh Cole. Cole," she murmured, tears welling and spilling down her cheeks. She crawled closer to me, and held me tightly. _

_I felt like a weight had been lifted off of my shoulders - she knew. She knew and still loved me. She didn't even ask if it was my fault that this was happening. She just accepted. I lifted her face to mine and kissed her, softly at first, but then my hunger grew and I deepened the kiss. She reciprocated, cautiously, being careful not to hurt my anymore. She lifted up my shirt, and gasped at the rainbow of bruises there. Lightly drawing her hand across my chest, I saw horror and anguish colour her expression. I tried to pull her back into the kiss, but she was both fascinated and appalled by the bruises. _

_"Come on, Angie, please. Just let me be with you. Just let me forget. Please," I pleaded. She made everything manageable, but she had always been separate and unknowing of what really happened. _

_Now I feared that everything would change, that this knowledge would make her change. _

_All I wanted was her, who she was, who I was when I was with her. I just wanted what had made so many unending hours of pain bearable to stay there. _

_"Please, Ange, just leave it. Come here, and kiss me. We're alone, we have time, we can do whatever we want," I asked. But from the look on her face and the tears in her eyes I knew it wouldn't happen. I sighed, grabbed my t-shirt and got up to leave. _

_"Cole, where are you going?" she wondered. Her voice was a little hitched from her tears, but she was stifling it. _

_"I am leaving. All I wanted to do is forget. To be with you. To not have to worry about anything else, to only focus on you and making you happy. I wanted to lose myself to you. But it is clear that that isn't going to happen, so I am going," I spat at her, unintentionally letting frustration tinge my voice. _

_That made her furious._

_"Is that all I am to you Cole? A way to _forget?_ Just some random girl who allows you to kiss your problems away? I thought I meant so much more to you. I care about you Cole, but all you want is a fuck and then you will leave, won't you? Well, hell, you are leaving now anyway. You are such an asshole, Cole. I can't believe I thought that there was a decent guy somewhere beneath the layers of fuckwit. But maybe some people are just fuckwit all the way through. Goodbye, Cole. Come back only when you think that I am worth something to you," she replied, complete anger bursting through her voice. Her fists were clenched at her sides, and she was visibly shaking. _

_I laughed cruelly._

_"Are you so blind Angie? Can you not see how much I care about you? I could have any girl I wanted - they practically throw themselves at me whenever I have a concert. But I want YOU."_

_She blinked, and then narrowed her eyes at me._

_"Is that supposed to make me feel better, Cole? Knowing that you might be cheating on me with some random chick? Oh, great, the great Cole St Clair chose ME. I feel so special. I never realised it was such a PRIVILEGE to be in your company. Wow, if only I had known, then we wouldn't be in this situation, would we?" she yelled, striding towards me powerfully._

_"Go fuck yourself, Cole. Or get one of your little fan girls to do it for you, because I sure ain't anytime soon. THAT is a promise. Now leave, before I actually consider punching some of your bruises. They look pretty painful."_

_She poked me in the chest to further her point. But I got the picture. I stepped out of her room, unsurprised to hear it slam shut loudly behind me. _

_"Shit," I said to nobody in particular._

_The girl I loved, the girl that made everything easier, the girl that made me smile, the girl that was probably the one positive thing in my life, had just shut me down and kicked me out. _

_And again, it was completely my fault._

_Again, this was what I deserved, what I had expected from the beginning._

_I didn't want to be this person - clearly, though, I had no choice. _

_This, this asshole, this is who I am, who I always will be._

_This is Cole St Clair. _

Jerking myself back from the memory, I looked down to see that my hand was almost done. And surprisingly, it didn't look too bad. The doctor finished up neatly, and sent me out with a piece of paper to take to the front desk. Time to bolt. I saw that little miss pretty had left her desk temporarily, so I quietly slipped out the door, ran to my car, and got out of there. Jamming my foot on the accelerator, I drove out of town, not daring to look anywhere else but straight out of my car to the road.

Again, I let myself just drive with no intention, no direction, no aim.

And found myself at the edge of a cliff, looking down.

Maybe this was the answer.

Maybe this was what I needed - to get away from memories of my father, to get away from the remnants of a family, to leave behind heartbreak, loss, pain, and everything else that was fucked up with the world.

To leave behind Cole St Clair.

Maybe this was the right thing to do.

All

I

had

to

do

was

jump...


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Thanks so much to those who have bothered reading or reviewing, and to those who still continue to WANT to read – well, I admire you for sticking through the crap. :P Please review if you haven't, because I would love to hear your opinions. So yeah, here is the next chapter. Read and attempt to enjoy. **

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

Falling. I was falling. Tumbling through the air, the wind rushing past my face as I fell. Off the cliff. Off the world. And off life. I closed my eyes, willing my body to appreciate the sensation of losing control, letting myself sink into the feeling. Time slowed down for me – even though the part of my brain which still refused to let go to logic said it was impossible – stretching around me, bending itself, moving in slow motion as if someone had pressed a button on a remote control. I'd left my stomach somewhere behind me, and now I didn't feel a single thing except relief and…

Regret. Not for what I was doing now…but what I had done to Angie.  
What I had let happen to my brother.  
What I had let happen to _me_.

My eyes snapped open, and I saw something that I hadn't before I had made the jump. A shelf. Of rock. About ten metres below the edge of the cliff. And in that split second that I noticed that I realised this as well – I had not jumped out far enough.

I was going to hit it.  
But I wasn't going to die. And that thought alone pissed me off to the point that my vision blurred red.  
And then like a rubber band being snapped back into place, time was normal, and I was hurtling towards a rock shelf at full speed.  
My last thought before my body hit the rock was this – I even screw up killing myself.

Fuck. The. World.

And then, with a loud crack like a heavy book hitting the top of a table, my world blackened, and I resigned myself once again to the feeling of nothingness…

Pulled. Tugged. Lifted. Dangled. Voices. Muffled. Hands. Prodded. Poked. Wrestled. Angled. Pain. Pain. Pain. Forget. Forget. Let me forget…

_With a final zip, I was done. Packed. Ready to blow this mother of a place for good. With a glance around my room, I felt nothing – no remorse. Not even nostalgia. It was just a room – a room where shitty things happened – but still a room. After all, dad made sure that there was never anywhere I could hide, no place that I was safe. So no, my room was not my sanctuary. I couldn't care less about it, actually. I was just about to leave when I had an impulse to give my dad one last thing to remember me by. I grabbed a pair of scissors from my desk and etched into the wall something along the lines of this:  
_

FUCK YOU, DADDY DEAREST. GO TO HELL.

_With a smirk I picked up by bags (all two of them – wow) and left the room, slamming the door one last time. I walked downstairs, headed straight for the door. So close. So close. I was so close to freedom, so close to…_

"_And where do you think YOU'RE going, son?" his voice boomed. _

_I didn't stop. I kept moving. Maybe I could make it out the door, sprint to my car, just in time before…  
__I felt a hand grab my hair, and my head was yanked painfully backwards. _

"_Son, now I know you have better manners than to ignore someone when they have asked you a question. So let me repeat – Where. Are. You. Going?" he spoke angrily, spittle flying from his mouth. _

_He let go and I turned to face him properly. I was no longer afraid – the hope of leaving had given me strength and courage to stand up to the sick son-of-a-bitch that called himself my father. I stood up straight, adjusted the bags on my shoulder and looked him straight in his soulless black eyes. _

"_I am getting out of this place, FATHER" I said. "I am leaving. I don't need a mother-fucker like yourself pretending to be any sort of dad or husband to anyone. I am old enough to take care of myself and I am LEAVING. I don't care what you have to say, I don't care about you at all. But one thing is for sure – I am never going to give you the sadistic pleasure of hurting me ever again. Bet your life on it, DAD. I hate you. I am going."_

_I could see his fury slowly boiling and seething – this was not going down well with him. But before he could do anything to me, either with his words or his fists, I swung one of my bags around that I had purposely filled with the heaviest things I could find and hit him squarely in the head. He fell backwards, and before I turned to head out the door I saw his look of pure astonishment and pain. I reached the door, turned the handle when I had one last stroke of inspiration. I walked up to where my father lay, groaning in pain, and slammed my foot down on the sensitive area between his legs, so hard that he gasped and cried out. _

"_And THAT'S so you can't have any other kids to hurt."_

_Dad curled in on himself, clutching his balls and crying – my father was crying – whimpering in pain while releasing a string of curses. I laughed and headed out the door with my things. I shoved all my stuff in my car, turned on the ignition, before hearing something I will never forget – the sound of my dad screaming at me, at the world, calling to my mum and to Stevey…and the howls of pain of my family as they were being brutally beaten. My heart twisted, but I had to get out of there…I had to…I had to…_

Sights. Bright and light. Smells. Clean and burning. Sounds. Hurried and anxious. Taste. Stagnant and stale. Feel. Pain…pain…pain…

"_Come on, Cole. Keep your eyes CLOSED. It's meant to be a surprise!" she said to me with a smile in her voice. _

"_Sure thing, Angie. But are you sure I can't just have ONE little peak?" I replied._

_Her hand was warm, her fingers fitting perfectly in the spaces between mine, but she let go to playfully slap me on the shoulder. _

"_DON'T YOU DARE. You will ruin EVERYTHING if you do." _

_I laughed, searched for hand and pulled her in close, burying my face (with eyes still closed) into her hair. She giggled but pulled away._

"_Come ON, let's not get distracted. It's a really good surprise, I hope you like it!" she said excitedly. _

_She grabbed my hand again, pulling me away quickly, and my heart quickened it's pace. Her affect was never lost on me, always making my heart jump, my breath hitch, my stomach flip, my knees weak…_

_I felt Angie stop short, and I did too. _

"_Okay, it's time, Cole. You can open your eyes," she spoke softly, and I could hear the nervous anticipation in her voice. For her sake, I hope I liked the surprise as much as she thought I would – I didn't want to hurt her. _

_Slowly, prolonging the moment, I cracked open my eyes. I was amazed.  
__We were standing on top of a hill. I didn't even realise when she was leading me that we were going uphill – I was too focused on her presence next to me. The hill had a clear view of the town – twinkling lights and all – as well as being completely open to the sky. It was a combination between the beauty of nature, and the beauty of man. I know, I sound like a girl, but it was just…  
__And then I noticed something else. Candles. They covered the ground. Created a circle around a picnic blanket, which had a basket and a guitar on it. I was stunned. _

"_Oh, no, too girly? Shit, shit, shit you don't like it, do you? Oh no, I thought that-" she started, before I silenced her with a kiss. _

_I grabbed her, pulled her close and kissed her deeply. I didn't care what anyone else thought – Angie was beautiful, she was amazing, I would do anything to make her happy. What she had done for me…well, words couldn't describe. Angie offered me a chance at hope, a chance of happiness, a chance of…life. I wrapped my arms around her waist, pressing myself closer to her._

"_It's perfect, Ange. You're perfect. I love you," I whispered in her ear, before meeting her lips again. _

_And this time, I could feel the corners of her mouth curl up in a smile, a smile so big it caused me to smile, and then we were both laughing, falling on the picnic blanket in a moment of bliss. _

"_Play something for me, Cole? Please" she asked, her brown eyes pleading. _

"_How could I say no?" I replied, my hand already reaching towards the guitar that she had brought up here._

_I begun to play the new song I had been working on, a song that was totally different from my style, a song made only for her._

"_If fire calls for fire, then I want to be an inferno  
__Endless light, endless heat, endless us  
__Blazing next to you, with you, for you  
__I want desperately to be an inferno –  
__Your inferno"_

_My fingers plucked the strings smoothly, which surprised me because for the first time I felt nervous playing, worried that I would make a mistake and screw up the perfect moment that she had created. __But from the look on her face, I hadn't. I put down the guitar, and went to kiss her. My body covered hers, and I could feel her heart racing through her thin t-shirt – the speed matched mine. She tangled her fingers tangled in my hair, inviting me ever closer, closer, closer to the happiness that I didn't deserve, closer to the hope that I had never felt, closer to her..._

_And there we were, in our perfect moment, next to the twinkling lights of life below us, stars above us, candles next to us, me letting myself go, relinquishing control to the girl underneath me who was the only thing in this fucked world that made me feel like maybe my life wasn't as bad as I thought, the girl that made me forget my problems, the girl that made me want to be something better, something more, just something…_

Shaken.  
I was being shaken.

"Come on, wake up, boy. Wake up," a distant voice called, trying to pull me back into the world.

More shakes.  
Gentle voice.  
Then the voice got louder. More aggravated. The shakes more violent and powerful.  
And then, a slap.  
The haziness of medication cleared, and I jolted upright. I opened my eyes, but I was blinded by the brightness of the lights. Tears pricked in the corner of my eyes, and I rubbed them until I could look around me without much pain. I scanned the room, but didn't get far before the doctor next to my bed called for my attention. He had what appeared to be my chart in his right hand, a pen in his left and those stupid half moon glasses perched on the edge of his pointy nose.

"Cole, is it? Well, Cole, I am Dr Haler. You have a broken right leg, fractured left leg, 3 broken ribs, 4 with bruising, broken collarbone, concussion, your right wrist is broken and, needless to say, you have multiple bruises. That's what happens when you fall off a cliff without…"

"I didn't fall," I interrupted, staring at the wall.

The doctor glanced up, somewhat startled, and his hazel eyes widened in confusion.

"But it says here that you were reported fall-"

"I didn't fall. I jumped. There's a difference, doctor. And I think you should stop treating me. I can't pay for it, nor do I feel inclined to. Just let me out of here, take me to the cliff, and I promise that the next bed you will see me wheeled in with will be taking me to the morgue. Okay? So you can leave that stupid fucking chart here, and sign my release forms. Just let me get out of here," I said to him.

Without another word, the doctor left the room, but not before pressing the button next to my bed which called for staff assistance.  
As soon as he had left the room, I began pulling at the needles that were sticking out of my body, but I was weak and it took longer than I expected. So long, in fact, that the assistance that Dr Haler had pressed for arrived. 4 of them, in fact.  
Frantically, I pulled at all the things stuck on me, in me, but one of the nurses rushed and injected something into my arm. I struggled, batting them away, but my muscles began developing the curious feeling of growing heavy. I couldn't lift them. Couldn't move. I lost focus – the nurses blurring.  
But I felt eerily calm – there was nothing I could do. I withdrew into myself. Away from myself. Away from the restraints that they were tying down. Away from memories of Angie that are tainted by my actions. Away from the regret.

But I knew that I would have to come back eventually – the medication would wear off. And when that happened, I would wake up. Wake up to the real world. Wake up to a fucked up me.

Wake up to realise that I was tied to life.  
Forced to live.  
Forced to remember.  
I am tied to life.  
Tied to the very thing which made me jump.

Who the fuck wants to be tied to _that_?

I sure as hell don't.  
But I sure as hell don't have a choice either.


End file.
